http://spoti.fi/2eHTA4Q?utm_source=phplist5628&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Neil+Young+On+Spotify
They all come back to the garden.
Let this be a lesson to those holding out, the streaming deniers, this is now, this is happening, get on the gravy train or be left behind.
It always happens. Do you remember when acts wouldn't let their albums be released on CD? Hell, you still can't get that Buckingham/Nicks LP, the one on Polydor, with "Crying In The Night," it's arguably better than anything the duo has done since, although Stevie Nicks's 2011 LP "In Your Dreams" was a complete return to form, eclipsing all of her work except for "Bella Donna," funny how some oldsters can still reach the brass ring, listen to "Secret Love," "New Orleans" and "Wide Sargasso Sea," and now you can, just fire up Spotify, you can get a free account, you can't pick and choose tracks on mobile for free, although you can do this on the desktop, but the point is you now have access, to almost everything.
That's right, no Bob Seger. Explain this to me once again? His old Detroit homey Bob Ritchie, aka "Kid Rock," saw the light. You've got to go where the fans are. It's all about getting people to hear your music, there's a ton of dough in music if fans care, and Bob is doing boffo at the b.o. by lowering concert ticket prices, funny how no one will follow his lead. Everybody's so busy bitching about bread but when someone comes up with a fan-friendly way to make more they avoid it.
Pono was not fan-friendly. Its Toblerone box fit in no pocket and most people could not hear the difference. Hell, I A/B'ed it with Deezer Elite and my friends said the latter sounded better, there you have it. As for me... My house is loaded with stereo equipment but my listening device of choice right now is my cylindrical Amazon Echo speaker. Funny what we'll put up with in the name of convenience. I can't wait until Sonos goes voice-activated and my zones come alive.
I've been demonstrating the power of streaming services and Sonos for years, people didn't believe it existed, that the history of recorded music was at your fingertips. People still don't know how streaming works, seemingly every day someone e-mails me that they don't want to pay for data, what happens if they're out of cell range, when the truth is you can download thousands of tracks to your device and do it via wi-fi, but people don't want solutions, the early adopters start to rave and eventually it trickles down to the stuck in the mud Luddites.
Like those who lined up to embrace Pono.
First and foremost... Neil Young does not have 10,000 hours in device development, he doesn't know how to market electronic equipment. Why does everybody believe they can do everything? The truth is most people heard "Heart Of Gold" on systems so lame the Echo is probably superior in sound quality. Why penalize your fans? And, if you want to embrace higher quality audio, why not laud Deezer Elite? And Tidal? And implore Spotify and Apple and Amazon to offer a higher res option? You make much more progress inside the system, just ask the recently departed Tom Hayden. Then again, he never truly realized compromise was the key to forward movement.
Like Clayton Christensen says... The disruptive service starts off with low quality and then gets good enough to topple the standard. That's how MP3s beat CDs. It's how streaming is beating files. Get on board, it only gets better.
As for Neil... He gets tons of press but no sales, little listenership. What he needs to do is come out with one transformative track and then he could be king once again. Never mind "Ohio," which was written, recorded, pressed and shipped mere days after the Kent State tragedy, but there's the whole "Rust Never Sleeps" LP, which made him a hero amongst the grunge set, gave his career new legs. Neil, forget the albums, forget the concepts, just give us one good track, it's the streaming way, you were the breakout star of Oldchella, let the wind carry your new music into our consciousness.
No one is bigger than the system, you either join in or are left behind.
And speaking of Oldchella, I was stunned how many people didn't know that Neil was still this good, and that he even hit one over the fence in this century, with "Greendale," I loved that, both the album and tour, although the movie is irrelevant.
So, in honor of Neil making the move I'm gonna give you a playlist.
We're gonna start off with "Emperor Of Wyoming," from his solo debut. You won't even know it's him, this is a gem. And from the same record, arguably his best, I'm gonna include "I've Been Waiting For You," FOR SUCH A LONG TIME, it's my favorite of Neil's work, and "The Loner" and "The Last Trip To Tulsa"... The last...if you're under fifty you've probably never heard it, and you should, to see how artists used to test limits.
And from the second album I'm gonna include "Down By The River," its highlight. This was the solo record I bought first, I used to play this song on the guitar. Oh, what the hell, I'll include "Cinnamon Girl" and "Cowgirl In The Sand" too.
And from the third LP, the commercial breakthrough, "After The Gold Rush," I'll start with "Southern Man," so you know what Ronnie Van Zant was reacting to. And then my personal favorite, "Don't Let It Bring You Down," the rocking "When You Dance, I Can Really Love," and the two snippets, ""Till The Morning Comes," which I used to play with my freshman roommate, he on trombone, me on guitar, and "Cripple Creek Ferry."
"After The Gold Rush" is better than "Harvest," but the latter was the high point of Neil's career, it made him a dorm room staple. My favorite was "Are You Ready For The Country?," but I'll include "Heart Of Gold," "Old Man," "Alabama" and "A Man Needs A Maid," the last to show you how sensibilities have changed, and to demonstrate the earnestness once evidenced in music.
Unfortunately I don't see "Time Fades Away" on Spotify, the live album wherein Neil went on tour and all those expecting to hear country ditties, soft music, were barraged with rock and roll, previously unreleased material. Neil intentionally destroyed his career, to give himself artistic freedom, can you imagine anyone doing that today?
"Walk On" from "On The Beach," the 1974 album released right after I graduated from college, when Neil was finally free and could do whatever he wanted and only the hard core cared.
And then we come to "Tonight's The Night"...
"Bruce Berry was a working man
He used to load that Econoline van"
He was a roadie, he was Jan Berry's brother, of Jan and Dean fame. Neil had experienced too much death and wrote about it.
"Zuma" is not on Spotify, so you can't hear its highlight "Cortez The Killer," but as a special treat I'm gonna include Gov't Mule's version, which is special in its own way, if you know the original it will put a smile on your face.
But 1977's "American Stars 'N Bars" is up, so I'll include its legendary highlight, "Like A Hurricane."
And that brings us to 1978's "Comes A Time," wherein Neil tried to recapture the magic and go back to that country/"Harvest" sound, even though the looky-loos did not come back to him. I'm including the title cut, "Lotta Love," a hit for the dearly departed Nicolette Larson, and my personal favorite, "Look Out For My Love." Also, I'm going to include the even better cover of "Look Out For My Love" by Linda Ronstadt from her 1980 "New Wave" album "Mad Love."
And then comes "Rust Never Sleeps," with "Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black)" and "Powderfinger." And if you care, and you should, be sure to check out the double live album "Live Rust," the soundtrack to one of the great rock movies of all time, which was distributed with surround sound before that was de rigueur.
I'm gonna skip "Hawks & Doves" and "Re-ac-tor," but I am including "Sample And Hold" from "Trans," am I the only one who liked this album? Then again, I loved Kraftwerk's "Computer World."
Now we're gonna jump to "This Note's For You." Neil had this one right, with his anti-commercialism, the clip won MTV's Video of the Year award, despite getting scant airplay from the music video channel, and to show how little that award means, no one remembers he won it, but people do remember Neil stood up against selling out.
And then Neil tried to recapture the "Harvest" magic with "Harvest Moon," but Don Henley had it right, you can never go back, the tracks were not as magical, but I'm gonna include "You And Me" nonetheless, it's haunting.
And that brings us to "Greendale." Of course I skipped a bunch, not that they're worthless, although they do tend to run together, even though I own them all and played them. Anyway, "Greendale"'s got a story, but I'm gonna put the songs in order of accessibility, "Sun Green," "Double E" and "Devil's Sidewalk."
And there you have it, we're bringing Neil Young's music back alive, most people did not own it, most people didn't own much, but now it's accessible, now his legend can shine on, as it deserves to do.
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Friday 4 November 2016
Bridgegate
No one's going to be closing any bridges too soon. If only they put a few bankers behind bars...
The dirty little secret is the educated class believes it's inviolate. That prison is for inner city denizens, the so-called dregs, and that if you're wealthy enough and savvy enough you can hire an attorney and get off.
But not in this case.
It's impossible to go back and reopen the bridge, give the time back to those who were frustrated by lane closures. But this is not about restitution but prevention. How do we reduce bad behavior in the future?
Some deterrents don't work. Like the death penalty. That's just an eye for an eye. But put a middle class person in jail and they're changed for life. Look at the Watergate conspirators, one of the worst offenders, Chuck Colson, became a preacher. He had a lot of time behind bars to think about his bad behavior. And Dick Nixon may have been pardoned by his successor, Gerald Ford, but his reputation was irreparably tarnished and...
We've got a government spying on its citizens, and a financial system that continues to wreak havoc on our economy, but we're complicit in this behavior. We think the best and the brightest are keeping us safe. Funny how the right wingers are all about keeping government out of our business but when it comes to going behind closed doors, into our communications devices, to keep us supposedly secure, they're all for it.
I remember when jail was anathema, not a badge of honor. Seemingly every rapper has been behind bars, and of course that's an overstatement, but how have we gotten to the point where we glorify this? Why do these performers find it so hard to do the right thing?
Then again, we revere the outlaws because we ourselves are afraid.
It seems the bad acting musicians, and it's not only rappers, a bunch of country acts have done time and a few rockers too, are running on instinct, they're not thinking about it. But these white collar criminals...they know exactly what they're doing and they act with impunity. And the same right wingers who believe in law and order have crippled the judiciary system to the point where if you're guilty of bad behavior there's a good chance you won't be caught, never mind prosecuted. No taxes, no prosecutors. Funny how it's all part of the same circle, you can't take out one element and expect the system to work. Explain to me again how reducing IRS agent head count helps us? Aren't these the people paid to collect the money?
So now while there's a camera on every corner, to the point the average citizen can't commit a crime and get away with it, those at the top of the pyramid are running willy-nilly over the system.
I've got no idea if they'll prosecute Chris Christie, one thing I know for sure is his political career is finished. And the bridge lane closures did it. It was akin to a rap feud. The mayor of Fort Lee wouldn't endorse him so he had to pay. The only thing missing was the bullets.
But there was evidence, electronic evidence. These nitwits didn't realize their mobile phones were incriminating devices. Once again, it's getting very hard to break the law and get away with it, but if you're committing conceptual crimes the odds of skating are much higher. Next time it'll all be done via conversation. That's what they do in Silicon Valley when a deal gets close, they get off e-mail, they go to the landline, because there is no record.
And there's a huge record of financial bad behavior but no one in charge, no one making decisions, was prosecuted. They said they didn't know, hid behind layers of management, and counted on their cronies in the government, like Timothy Geithner, to let them be.
Then again, we've got a corrupt system. Both political and financial. You can't make it unless you bend the rules. To the point where Donald Trump is boasting about bending the rules. Which way do we want it, zero tolerance or...
Put a few bankers behind bars and you'd be stunned how financial shenanigans evaporate. Nobody who went to an Ivy League institution wants to take it up the rear end. That's right, put 'em in with the general population, don't send 'em to a country club prison.
As for politicians... They do get prosecuted, they do go to jail, the attorney general of Pennsylvania, Kathleen Kane, a Democrat, was just convicted. But, is it the person or the system or both? And can we investigate the system as well as the person? How the hell do you raise the money to run and get elected? Inherently you owe favors.
We're all guilty. Of being two-faced. We want a pass here and strict tolerance there.
But when you send a message to those in charge, making decisions, that bad behavior won't be tolerated, it ripples through the whole system. Talk about trickle down...
So, today was a victory for our country. It showed no one is above the law.
But the truth is most movers and shakers believe to the contrary. They fly private, live behind layers of security and have access to the gatekeepers, they can make things go away. We live in a two-tiered society and most of us are on the lower rung when the truth is we're all in this together.
I don't want to ruin anybody's life, I don't want anybody taken away from their children.
But if they're gonna put African-Americans behind bars for smoking a little dope, all in an effort to feed the prison industrial complex, then those in charge of creating the system must be incarcerated too.
There's no crying in court. You can let the tears flow but the scales of justice won't be tipped.
Chalk one up for the good guys today.
Us.
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The dirty little secret is the educated class believes it's inviolate. That prison is for inner city denizens, the so-called dregs, and that if you're wealthy enough and savvy enough you can hire an attorney and get off.
But not in this case.
It's impossible to go back and reopen the bridge, give the time back to those who were frustrated by lane closures. But this is not about restitution but prevention. How do we reduce bad behavior in the future?
Some deterrents don't work. Like the death penalty. That's just an eye for an eye. But put a middle class person in jail and they're changed for life. Look at the Watergate conspirators, one of the worst offenders, Chuck Colson, became a preacher. He had a lot of time behind bars to think about his bad behavior. And Dick Nixon may have been pardoned by his successor, Gerald Ford, but his reputation was irreparably tarnished and...
We've got a government spying on its citizens, and a financial system that continues to wreak havoc on our economy, but we're complicit in this behavior. We think the best and the brightest are keeping us safe. Funny how the right wingers are all about keeping government out of our business but when it comes to going behind closed doors, into our communications devices, to keep us supposedly secure, they're all for it.
I remember when jail was anathema, not a badge of honor. Seemingly every rapper has been behind bars, and of course that's an overstatement, but how have we gotten to the point where we glorify this? Why do these performers find it so hard to do the right thing?
Then again, we revere the outlaws because we ourselves are afraid.
It seems the bad acting musicians, and it's not only rappers, a bunch of country acts have done time and a few rockers too, are running on instinct, they're not thinking about it. But these white collar criminals...they know exactly what they're doing and they act with impunity. And the same right wingers who believe in law and order have crippled the judiciary system to the point where if you're guilty of bad behavior there's a good chance you won't be caught, never mind prosecuted. No taxes, no prosecutors. Funny how it's all part of the same circle, you can't take out one element and expect the system to work. Explain to me again how reducing IRS agent head count helps us? Aren't these the people paid to collect the money?
So now while there's a camera on every corner, to the point the average citizen can't commit a crime and get away with it, those at the top of the pyramid are running willy-nilly over the system.
I've got no idea if they'll prosecute Chris Christie, one thing I know for sure is his political career is finished. And the bridge lane closures did it. It was akin to a rap feud. The mayor of Fort Lee wouldn't endorse him so he had to pay. The only thing missing was the bullets.
But there was evidence, electronic evidence. These nitwits didn't realize their mobile phones were incriminating devices. Once again, it's getting very hard to break the law and get away with it, but if you're committing conceptual crimes the odds of skating are much higher. Next time it'll all be done via conversation. That's what they do in Silicon Valley when a deal gets close, they get off e-mail, they go to the landline, because there is no record.
And there's a huge record of financial bad behavior but no one in charge, no one making decisions, was prosecuted. They said they didn't know, hid behind layers of management, and counted on their cronies in the government, like Timothy Geithner, to let them be.
Then again, we've got a corrupt system. Both political and financial. You can't make it unless you bend the rules. To the point where Donald Trump is boasting about bending the rules. Which way do we want it, zero tolerance or...
Put a few bankers behind bars and you'd be stunned how financial shenanigans evaporate. Nobody who went to an Ivy League institution wants to take it up the rear end. That's right, put 'em in with the general population, don't send 'em to a country club prison.
As for politicians... They do get prosecuted, they do go to jail, the attorney general of Pennsylvania, Kathleen Kane, a Democrat, was just convicted. But, is it the person or the system or both? And can we investigate the system as well as the person? How the hell do you raise the money to run and get elected? Inherently you owe favors.
We're all guilty. Of being two-faced. We want a pass here and strict tolerance there.
But when you send a message to those in charge, making decisions, that bad behavior won't be tolerated, it ripples through the whole system. Talk about trickle down...
So, today was a victory for our country. It showed no one is above the law.
But the truth is most movers and shakers believe to the contrary. They fly private, live behind layers of security and have access to the gatekeepers, they can make things go away. We live in a two-tiered society and most of us are on the lower rung when the truth is we're all in this together.
I don't want to ruin anybody's life, I don't want anybody taken away from their children.
But if they're gonna put African-Americans behind bars for smoking a little dope, all in an effort to feed the prison industrial complex, then those in charge of creating the system must be incarcerated too.
There's no crying in court. You can let the tears flow but the scales of justice won't be tipped.
Chalk one up for the good guys today.
Us.
--
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Thursday 3 November 2016
The CMA Awards
And the winner was...
STURGILL SIMPSON! Who excoriated Nashville and the ACM and CMA for embracing Merle Haggard posthumously when they pushed him aside during his lifetime.
Sturgill Simpson is an outsider.
And people love him for it. Whenever I write about country music I hear his name most, my inbox overflows, he's got rabid fans, and they're the ones spreading the word. There's a fiction that old media still works, radio and print. But print is dying on the vine, the "Wall Street Journal" just laid off staffers and is merging sections and the "New York Times" saw a double-digit decrease in print advertising. Madison Avenue has fled print, because it no longer reaches and converts the public. Advertising may look like a public service, with all the image ads, but it's really all about the SELL!
And for years Nashville has been about selling out.
I truly wonder if all these entertainers are friends in real life. Watching on television you felt this was a giant high school party thrown by the cool kids professing togetherness before they went to the bathroom and bullied those not in the club.
Not that there weren't highlights.
Despite the tacky, over-the-top outfits, the CMAs were more genuine than the Grammys, there was less sheen, the music breathed, it evidenced some humanity. But it was all in service to a TV network paying the bills. Whether it be hype for upcoming shows displayed via on-screen bugs or scrolling news info it was clear the musicians were not in control, money was. What does Jennifer Garner have to do with country music? Peyton Manning? As for hosts Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley...it's time to give someone else a chance. One thing was clear during this 50th anniversary telecast, the new plow over the old. You had hits once and now your power has been usurped. Give someone else a chance.
And playing to the television audience a grit was absent that is key at live shows. When you're playing to everybody, you're playing to nobody. Whereas when you're in the arena for a live show supported by fans the excitement is palpable, when the attendees roar, the performers take it up a notch.
The highlight for me was Eric Church thanking his fans. He sent his new LP to them first and it won Album of the Year. Some things are right in this universe, as opposed to all the acts shilling for Chevy. Does anybody really want a Chevy, other than a Corvette? Isn't that what you settle for when you can't afford a Honda, Toyota or Nissan, never mind a Mazda or an Audi? But if Chevy is paying the bills, these court jesters will perform for them. Pretty creepy.
Then again, that's the era we live in. It's not that the younger generation is fine with selling out, it's just that it never lived through an era where people didn't. Which is why Sturgill Simpson taking a stand is so important.
And I've got to laud Kenny Chesney for wearing his t-shirt, albeit a highfalutin' one. Once upon a time, when music burgeoned, it was about what was inside as opposed to the trappings. Kenny was the only one who came in his regular clothing. He bucked tradition. Kudos.
But there was the Apple Music ad for his new album. That's what an exclusive will buy you, promotion. But does it even work? Sure, there's a level of awareness, but we've already established word of mouth is king. As for Apple offering three months free... Is there anybody interested who hasn't already used up their free trial? Who is this appealing to? Certainly not hard core music fans.
And speaking of taking a stand, isn't it funny how Spotify is more Steve Jobs than Apple Music. It was Jobs who set the iTunes price and wouldn't budge, wouldn't accede to the major labels. It's Spotify that's fighting the labels to keep a free tier, it wants no part of exclusives. Once again, you stand for something or you stand for nothing.
And nobody in this telecast would stand for anything other than the Dixie Chicks.
I'm stunned they let them back in the building.
My viewpoint is they should have fought back, just like the Republican bulldozers who commit faux pas, like Bill O'Reilly. They should have stayed in country music, continued to make Nashville uncomfortable instead of exiting the format. By bringing Beyonce on stage, by performing with the pop queen, they showed country music to be what it now is, a big tent. Hell, half of the stars rap. Well, maybe not that many, but plenty.
And that's today's brouhaha, how the CMAs killed Bey's publicity. Or not. You can decide.
But the truth is watching this show I felt very uncomfortable. Like we live in a nation divided. Like the south is a completely different country. Enough with the religion, Jesus didn't help you win that award, the unheralded songwriter on Music Row did. As for Carrie and Brad being tired of politics... They could take a stand, but they won't, it might hurt their pocket book.
But you know who did take a stand?
KATY PERRY! She's been in the trenches for Hillary Clinton since day one. And even though I wavered and went over to Bernie I came back. Because I'm sick of the right wing vilifying Hillary. It's a social media scrum. And the way you win is to stay in the game, unlike Taylor Swift who was K.O.'ed by Kanye and Kim and turned tail never to return, Clinton has stayed in the game. Is she imperfect, sure...BUT SO ARE YOU!
You see we have to take a stand, we cannot hang back. Read Frank Rich in the new issue of "New York." He posits there will be consequences for those who did not stand up to Trump.
There are consequences for those who play the game, refusing to do what's right.
There's a lot right in Nashville right now. The records are made with real instruments, the songs are singable and they're about subjects people can relate to. That's the essence of country music, but not only country, BUT ALL MUSIC!
But we've gotten so far from the garden.
The CMA performances slid right off of me. They didn't have gravitas. There was too much stunting, too many duets. But a lot of these numbers, when it's just me and I hear them streaming through the headphones...
Unfortunately, Dierks Bentley sang to hard drive, but if "Different For Girls" doesn't ring true to you, you're probably a groper.
There's truth in that song. It resonates.
There was very little truth in last night's show.
But some of the songs keep me alive.
You're building a resume, a body of work. You only answer to yourself. And when you look inward and reveal your truth people are drawn to you. Which is why it's so important to avoid doing what's expedient, going along to get along. Especially in art. The hacks come and go, the legends live on.
And Merle Haggard, although six feet under, will live longer in the culture than almost any winner tonight.
"The first thing I remember knowing
Was a lonesome whistle blowing"
Lonesome. Sometimes I feel that way so much I could cry, and do. Remember when songs penetrated your soul? That's why people clamor for Jason Isbell, he's trying to get it right. You need to try and get it right.
"And a young 'un's dream of growing up to ride
On a freight train leaving town"
Now everybody just stays where they was born and goes nowhere. Used to be you wanted to get out of Dodge, have new experiences. Today the acts base themselves in Nashville and fly home after many gigs. And the audience never ventures above the Mason-Dixon Line.
But music can take you far away.
And Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried" was carried by the wind all the way to San Francisco, where the Grateful Dead covered it on their legendary live album commonly known as "Skull and Roses."
That's music history for you right there.
Play a little less to the crowd and a little more to yourself.
That's when people embrace you, that's when you become a big star.
Too many of tonight's stars were small.
But Sturgill Simpson, who was not even nominated, is quite big.
You can be big too.
Sturgill Simpson on Merle Haggard: http://bit.ly/2bR2lKx?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
"New York Times Co. Reports an Advertising Drop, Though Digital Results Grew": http://nyti.ms/2enfZqo?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
Frank Rich: "Trump's Appeasers - Charles Lindbergh was a national hero, then a fascist sympathizer. History will be just as brutal to more than a few current Republican leaders": http://nym.ag/2ek17cg?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
"Mama Tried": http://spoti.fi/2eFy1lg?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
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STURGILL SIMPSON! Who excoriated Nashville and the ACM and CMA for embracing Merle Haggard posthumously when they pushed him aside during his lifetime.
Sturgill Simpson is an outsider.
And people love him for it. Whenever I write about country music I hear his name most, my inbox overflows, he's got rabid fans, and they're the ones spreading the word. There's a fiction that old media still works, radio and print. But print is dying on the vine, the "Wall Street Journal" just laid off staffers and is merging sections and the "New York Times" saw a double-digit decrease in print advertising. Madison Avenue has fled print, because it no longer reaches and converts the public. Advertising may look like a public service, with all the image ads, but it's really all about the SELL!
And for years Nashville has been about selling out.
I truly wonder if all these entertainers are friends in real life. Watching on television you felt this was a giant high school party thrown by the cool kids professing togetherness before they went to the bathroom and bullied those not in the club.
Not that there weren't highlights.
Despite the tacky, over-the-top outfits, the CMAs were more genuine than the Grammys, there was less sheen, the music breathed, it evidenced some humanity. But it was all in service to a TV network paying the bills. Whether it be hype for upcoming shows displayed via on-screen bugs or scrolling news info it was clear the musicians were not in control, money was. What does Jennifer Garner have to do with country music? Peyton Manning? As for hosts Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley...it's time to give someone else a chance. One thing was clear during this 50th anniversary telecast, the new plow over the old. You had hits once and now your power has been usurped. Give someone else a chance.
And playing to the television audience a grit was absent that is key at live shows. When you're playing to everybody, you're playing to nobody. Whereas when you're in the arena for a live show supported by fans the excitement is palpable, when the attendees roar, the performers take it up a notch.
The highlight for me was Eric Church thanking his fans. He sent his new LP to them first and it won Album of the Year. Some things are right in this universe, as opposed to all the acts shilling for Chevy. Does anybody really want a Chevy, other than a Corvette? Isn't that what you settle for when you can't afford a Honda, Toyota or Nissan, never mind a Mazda or an Audi? But if Chevy is paying the bills, these court jesters will perform for them. Pretty creepy.
Then again, that's the era we live in. It's not that the younger generation is fine with selling out, it's just that it never lived through an era where people didn't. Which is why Sturgill Simpson taking a stand is so important.
And I've got to laud Kenny Chesney for wearing his t-shirt, albeit a highfalutin' one. Once upon a time, when music burgeoned, it was about what was inside as opposed to the trappings. Kenny was the only one who came in his regular clothing. He bucked tradition. Kudos.
But there was the Apple Music ad for his new album. That's what an exclusive will buy you, promotion. But does it even work? Sure, there's a level of awareness, but we've already established word of mouth is king. As for Apple offering three months free... Is there anybody interested who hasn't already used up their free trial? Who is this appealing to? Certainly not hard core music fans.
And speaking of taking a stand, isn't it funny how Spotify is more Steve Jobs than Apple Music. It was Jobs who set the iTunes price and wouldn't budge, wouldn't accede to the major labels. It's Spotify that's fighting the labels to keep a free tier, it wants no part of exclusives. Once again, you stand for something or you stand for nothing.
And nobody in this telecast would stand for anything other than the Dixie Chicks.
I'm stunned they let them back in the building.
My viewpoint is they should have fought back, just like the Republican bulldozers who commit faux pas, like Bill O'Reilly. They should have stayed in country music, continued to make Nashville uncomfortable instead of exiting the format. By bringing Beyonce on stage, by performing with the pop queen, they showed country music to be what it now is, a big tent. Hell, half of the stars rap. Well, maybe not that many, but plenty.
And that's today's brouhaha, how the CMAs killed Bey's publicity. Or not. You can decide.
But the truth is watching this show I felt very uncomfortable. Like we live in a nation divided. Like the south is a completely different country. Enough with the religion, Jesus didn't help you win that award, the unheralded songwriter on Music Row did. As for Carrie and Brad being tired of politics... They could take a stand, but they won't, it might hurt their pocket book.
But you know who did take a stand?
KATY PERRY! She's been in the trenches for Hillary Clinton since day one. And even though I wavered and went over to Bernie I came back. Because I'm sick of the right wing vilifying Hillary. It's a social media scrum. And the way you win is to stay in the game, unlike Taylor Swift who was K.O.'ed by Kanye and Kim and turned tail never to return, Clinton has stayed in the game. Is she imperfect, sure...BUT SO ARE YOU!
You see we have to take a stand, we cannot hang back. Read Frank Rich in the new issue of "New York." He posits there will be consequences for those who did not stand up to Trump.
There are consequences for those who play the game, refusing to do what's right.
There's a lot right in Nashville right now. The records are made with real instruments, the songs are singable and they're about subjects people can relate to. That's the essence of country music, but not only country, BUT ALL MUSIC!
But we've gotten so far from the garden.
The CMA performances slid right off of me. They didn't have gravitas. There was too much stunting, too many duets. But a lot of these numbers, when it's just me and I hear them streaming through the headphones...
Unfortunately, Dierks Bentley sang to hard drive, but if "Different For Girls" doesn't ring true to you, you're probably a groper.
There's truth in that song. It resonates.
There was very little truth in last night's show.
But some of the songs keep me alive.
You're building a resume, a body of work. You only answer to yourself. And when you look inward and reveal your truth people are drawn to you. Which is why it's so important to avoid doing what's expedient, going along to get along. Especially in art. The hacks come and go, the legends live on.
And Merle Haggard, although six feet under, will live longer in the culture than almost any winner tonight.
"The first thing I remember knowing
Was a lonesome whistle blowing"
Lonesome. Sometimes I feel that way so much I could cry, and do. Remember when songs penetrated your soul? That's why people clamor for Jason Isbell, he's trying to get it right. You need to try and get it right.
"And a young 'un's dream of growing up to ride
On a freight train leaving town"
Now everybody just stays where they was born and goes nowhere. Used to be you wanted to get out of Dodge, have new experiences. Today the acts base themselves in Nashville and fly home after many gigs. And the audience never ventures above the Mason-Dixon Line.
But music can take you far away.
And Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried" was carried by the wind all the way to San Francisco, where the Grateful Dead covered it on their legendary live album commonly known as "Skull and Roses."
That's music history for you right there.
Play a little less to the crowd and a little more to yourself.
That's when people embrace you, that's when you become a big star.
Too many of tonight's stars were small.
But Sturgill Simpson, who was not even nominated, is quite big.
You can be big too.
Sturgill Simpson on Merle Haggard: http://bit.ly/2bR2lKx?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
"New York Times Co. Reports an Advertising Drop, Though Digital Results Grew": http://nyti.ms/2enfZqo?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
Frank Rich: "Trump's Appeasers - Charles Lindbergh was a national hero, then a fascist sympathizer. History will be just as brutal to more than a few current Republican leaders": http://nym.ag/2ek17cg?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
"Mama Tried": http://spoti.fi/2eFy1lg?utm_source=phplist5626&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=The+CMA+Awards
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Wednesday 2 November 2016
The World Series
What a game!
It had everything, a rain delay, a comeback and extra innings.
And it ended at 1:45 AM on the east coast and the younger generation that no longer plays would have been hooked if it had only seen it.
Baseball was everything growing up. I played Little League where you either made the team or you didn't, you played or you were cut, and trophies only went to the winners. In an era when blacks were disadvantaged, women were denigrated and little light was shone upon the foibles of the famous people.
But we believed.
It was a simpler time. We wanted to be Mickey Mantle. Somehow, we believed Moose Skowron could be our best friend. We wanted to see Rocky Colavito come to bat, never mind Al Kaline. Baseball was the National Pastime. Until football came along and stole everybody's heart with a violent game played against a clock.
Remember the George Carlin routine? Baseball was pastoral, we had no idea when it might end, it might go on FOREVER!
And now the season does.
There were 162 games because there were ten teams instead of eight.
But these extra layers of playoffs, they were about TV cash and raising the hopes of the wannabes. Whereas way back when, you rode it out for the pennant and then the World Series was played the first week of October. We shouldn't be playing baseball in November, but that's what the money demands.
But despite all that, tonight's game was an epic finish that not only rekindled your belief in the game, but America too.
The most valuable player was a Jewish egghead who never took the field. Theo Epstein reversed the curse in Boston and then brought a championship to Chicago. Most sports are jockocracies wherein if you didn't play, you don't get a voice. To the point where the commentators are all has-been oldsters who won't talk trash unless they've got a personal beef. It's a closed system. You're either inside or outside, and that just sucks.
And the teams are a rainbow coalition of ethnicities. It's a white supremacist's nightmare, not only are there various colors, but immigrants too! And somehow they all get along, they come together as a team, they've got a common goal, victory!
What is the common goal in America today? The telecast was riddled with political ads that made one wince. Duplicitous candidates utilizing subterfuge to try and win. Whereas the baseball players had shaggy haircuts, some tattoos, and had to play by their wits, there was little time for thinking, you had to make decisions.
And we can second-guess Joe Maddon's until springtime. Why did he pull the starting pitcher? But this is not the digital world, where we expect it to work right out of the box, this is humanity, where you make mistakes and they have consequences.
The bad throws!
I'll argue that way back when the players were better prepared. I don't remember this many errors at the end of the season. But it kept one paying attention, you had no idea what would transpire.
Like the comeback.
That's why baseball is the best, it's never over until it's over. I was debating getting off the couch, calling it a night, it looked like a blowout, but then the aforementioned pitcher was replaced, the Indians scored and when it looked like they couldn't come back, THEY DID!
And for a minute there, it looked like they'd come back in the 10th.
Bob Costas says sports are a metaphor for life, and that's tonight's lesson... Not only that you shouldn't give up, but you should continue to play the game because anything can happen. Sometimes you've just got to show up, the other person will screw up. Sometimes you have to step up to the plate and create your own destiny.
As much as they're doing their best to screw up baseball they can't screw up the game. That's what's so fascinating and heartwarming. This is not football, where every year they're tweaking the rules and it's hard to catch up. This is not football wherein a subjective judgment, i.e. pass interference, can determine championships. This is just a bunch of guys on a field contesting each other, via their skills and their intellect. Sure, baseball players now pump iron, but the Cubs' 10th inning pitcher looked like he'd get beaten up in high school, he was a veritable stringbean!
And after throwing a bunch of strikes he could no longer find the plate. The pressure! That's what success is all about, handling the pressure!
So right now you've got a cadre of thrilled baby boomers with their minds blown that this series went to seven, the Cubs came back from a 3-1 deficit, and Chicago earned its first ring in 108 years.
And you've got a younger generation that's shrugging its shoulders if it's paying attention at all.
Sure, back in the sixties the games were during the day, we were in school, we'd implore our teacher to turn them on. But now they start at 8 PM and are almost guaranteed to go until midnight on the east coast... How did we lose our way?
That's right, we as a nation have lost our way. Because we put money first and foremost. It erodes all our institutions, it undermines our culture, it makes heroes of zeros. Come on, would anybody be listening to Donald Trump if he wasn't rich?
But maybe you're a Trump supporter... You're gonna vote for him, and when he hopefully loses, you're gonna say the election was rigged.
But nobody is saying the World Series was rigged. Everybody believes it was fought fair and square. Sure, there were some injustices, but that's life, perfection is nonexistent.
We can learn from baseball. Not only do you have to run onto the field and play, if you lose, you have to get ready for another day.
If this were politics they'd be screaming about the rain delay, saying it caused the pitchers to go cold and the playing field to get wet.
But nobody did.
One team ultimately ran onto the field in pure joy, disbelieving their long nightmare was over. That after almost a year of effort, never mind seasons previous, they'd triumphed.
The other team was glum, disillusioned.
But the Indians are not going to quit. They're going to lick their wounds and show up next spring to contest again.
Show up and contest, it's all we can do.
Just when I think I've seen it all, that I'm too jaded, a baseball game reminds me that despite preparation, we've got no idea what the future holds. And despite mistakes, we too can still triumph.
Puts a smile on my face and joy in my heart.
I hope you saw it.
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It had everything, a rain delay, a comeback and extra innings.
And it ended at 1:45 AM on the east coast and the younger generation that no longer plays would have been hooked if it had only seen it.
Baseball was everything growing up. I played Little League where you either made the team or you didn't, you played or you were cut, and trophies only went to the winners. In an era when blacks were disadvantaged, women were denigrated and little light was shone upon the foibles of the famous people.
But we believed.
It was a simpler time. We wanted to be Mickey Mantle. Somehow, we believed Moose Skowron could be our best friend. We wanted to see Rocky Colavito come to bat, never mind Al Kaline. Baseball was the National Pastime. Until football came along and stole everybody's heart with a violent game played against a clock.
Remember the George Carlin routine? Baseball was pastoral, we had no idea when it might end, it might go on FOREVER!
And now the season does.
There were 162 games because there were ten teams instead of eight.
But these extra layers of playoffs, they were about TV cash and raising the hopes of the wannabes. Whereas way back when, you rode it out for the pennant and then the World Series was played the first week of October. We shouldn't be playing baseball in November, but that's what the money demands.
But despite all that, tonight's game was an epic finish that not only rekindled your belief in the game, but America too.
The most valuable player was a Jewish egghead who never took the field. Theo Epstein reversed the curse in Boston and then brought a championship to Chicago. Most sports are jockocracies wherein if you didn't play, you don't get a voice. To the point where the commentators are all has-been oldsters who won't talk trash unless they've got a personal beef. It's a closed system. You're either inside or outside, and that just sucks.
And the teams are a rainbow coalition of ethnicities. It's a white supremacist's nightmare, not only are there various colors, but immigrants too! And somehow they all get along, they come together as a team, they've got a common goal, victory!
What is the common goal in America today? The telecast was riddled with political ads that made one wince. Duplicitous candidates utilizing subterfuge to try and win. Whereas the baseball players had shaggy haircuts, some tattoos, and had to play by their wits, there was little time for thinking, you had to make decisions.
And we can second-guess Joe Maddon's until springtime. Why did he pull the starting pitcher? But this is not the digital world, where we expect it to work right out of the box, this is humanity, where you make mistakes and they have consequences.
The bad throws!
I'll argue that way back when the players were better prepared. I don't remember this many errors at the end of the season. But it kept one paying attention, you had no idea what would transpire.
Like the comeback.
That's why baseball is the best, it's never over until it's over. I was debating getting off the couch, calling it a night, it looked like a blowout, but then the aforementioned pitcher was replaced, the Indians scored and when it looked like they couldn't come back, THEY DID!
And for a minute there, it looked like they'd come back in the 10th.
Bob Costas says sports are a metaphor for life, and that's tonight's lesson... Not only that you shouldn't give up, but you should continue to play the game because anything can happen. Sometimes you've just got to show up, the other person will screw up. Sometimes you have to step up to the plate and create your own destiny.
As much as they're doing their best to screw up baseball they can't screw up the game. That's what's so fascinating and heartwarming. This is not football, where every year they're tweaking the rules and it's hard to catch up. This is not football wherein a subjective judgment, i.e. pass interference, can determine championships. This is just a bunch of guys on a field contesting each other, via their skills and their intellect. Sure, baseball players now pump iron, but the Cubs' 10th inning pitcher looked like he'd get beaten up in high school, he was a veritable stringbean!
And after throwing a bunch of strikes he could no longer find the plate. The pressure! That's what success is all about, handling the pressure!
So right now you've got a cadre of thrilled baby boomers with their minds blown that this series went to seven, the Cubs came back from a 3-1 deficit, and Chicago earned its first ring in 108 years.
And you've got a younger generation that's shrugging its shoulders if it's paying attention at all.
Sure, back in the sixties the games were during the day, we were in school, we'd implore our teacher to turn them on. But now they start at 8 PM and are almost guaranteed to go until midnight on the east coast... How did we lose our way?
That's right, we as a nation have lost our way. Because we put money first and foremost. It erodes all our institutions, it undermines our culture, it makes heroes of zeros. Come on, would anybody be listening to Donald Trump if he wasn't rich?
But maybe you're a Trump supporter... You're gonna vote for him, and when he hopefully loses, you're gonna say the election was rigged.
But nobody is saying the World Series was rigged. Everybody believes it was fought fair and square. Sure, there were some injustices, but that's life, perfection is nonexistent.
We can learn from baseball. Not only do you have to run onto the field and play, if you lose, you have to get ready for another day.
If this were politics they'd be screaming about the rain delay, saying it caused the pitchers to go cold and the playing field to get wet.
But nobody did.
One team ultimately ran onto the field in pure joy, disbelieving their long nightmare was over. That after almost a year of effort, never mind seasons previous, they'd triumphed.
The other team was glum, disillusioned.
But the Indians are not going to quit. They're going to lick their wounds and show up next spring to contest again.
Show up and contest, it's all we can do.
Just when I think I've seen it all, that I'm too jaded, a baseball game reminds me that despite preparation, we've got no idea what the future holds. And despite mistakes, we too can still triumph.
Puts a smile on my face and joy in my heart.
I hope you saw it.
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Kenny Chesney Not On Spotify
Hasn't he got enough money?
Then again, maybe he's not only exclusive to Apple, maybe you can hear his new album "Cosmic Hallelujah" via Amazon, but I doubt it and researching it is too hard, these acts don't realize Apple and Amazon's streaming services are narrow silos whose contents are invisible to those who do not pay, it's like putting on a show where most people can't go and there are no reviews, what's the point of that?
Kenny's been working it. There's press everywhere, he did a town hall on No Shoes Radio, his SiriusXM station, but you can't stream the album on Spotify... Talk about noise Kenny, by time your LP arrives on the green service there'll be something new, you've got to strike when the iron is hot, while the looky-loos still care, and Kenny you need them to fill your stadium gigs.
Furthermore, you know when the LP goes wide Spotify's gonna bury it, no matter what they say. Steve Jobs was the king of retaliation, it's in the DNA of his company, you expect Spotify to play nice? I don't think so.
And Troy Carter said at the "Wall Street Journal"'s D Conference last week that Spotify would never get rid of its free tier, because some people will never pay. There you have it. Spotify's the new radio, and people listened to the radio and bought concert tickets and merch from time immemorial.
But the dirty little secret is right now streaming is anemic for country acts. Just like with CDs, sales plummeted in country last. So even if you're on Spotify it's not really hurting you. And does it hurt you anyway?
What game is Kenny Chesney playing here? We're already off Lady Gaga, she's in the rearview mirror. Imagine if her new album weren't on Spotify, when she came to the service no one would listen!
But Kenny thinks country will never change, that it will still be radio driven, that he'll whip out his tracks one by one, they'll run them to number one and there will be partying in the streets.
No.
That game is on its way to extinction. Just look at pop. Where the tracks break on streaming services first and radio picks up the crumbs. Actually, we saw this movie once before, thirty years ago, with MTV. Suddenly, the tail was wagging the dog, radio had to play what MTV did, and when it did not, the station's ratings took a nosedive.
Funny how Kenny will take a stand on this but not anything else. His vaunted single "Noise"... Come on Kenny, who are you for, Hillary or the Donald, you can tell us, but you won't, you're too much of a wimp. Imagine the classic rock acts refusing to say. They had backbones, they cared, you don't.
What does Kenny Chesney stand for?
Relaxing on the beach. That's where we are these days folks. Escapism is everything. And you wonder why music no longer drives the culture.
I just can't understand how acts can be so fan unfriendly. They pay fealty to those footing the bill again and again and then screw them. Not only with exclusives on streaming, but ticketing too.
It's a rip-off culture. Ready to be disrupted. Just like food. McDonald's cruised along for years, then fast casual came along and it turned out people would rather pay a few bucks extra for something really good.
When the revolution comes, and it will, acts like Kenny Chesney will be buried by those speaking the truth.
Someone's gonna come along and lay their heart bare and turn country music upside down. Do you really think this bro thing is forever?
What kind of bizarre world do we live in where the distributor is hipper than the artist? That's right, Spotify is more forward thinking than Kenny Chesney and more beloved. Records come and go, Spotify remains. Remember that, no act is bigger than the streaming service, it lived for years without the Beatles and grew quite nicely. Distribution is bigger than your act, how come Kenny Chesney doesn't know that?
In movies and TV they want you to buy multiple streaming services. Think of a movie and you can't see it, not unless you pay someone you're not already subscribing to, and chances are they don't have it either.
But in music we fought that war. Everything's in one place for one low price, sorta.
As for those rearguard people still hating on Spotify... I guess you hate Uber too. You're still using a typewriter instead of a computer. When I look at the "Billboard" chart I laugh, how inaccurate can you be? Sales are a de minimis part of the picture and the fact that streaming one damn song enough counts as an album is insane, kinda like saying if I masturbated a hundred times it's equivalent to sexual intercourse. Because that's what the "Billboard" chart is, masturbation. A scoreboard for an industry so out of touch it can't handle the truth.
The truth is streaming already won. And you're competing with the history of recorded music. It's tough out there, to gain attention, to be streamed. You don't want to fight with one hand tied behind your back.
Total streams is the only metric that matters. When "Billboard" wakes up and says this god knows.
So, Kenny gets more press when his record goes number one.
But that's only for a week. Then what? What's gonna drive people to stream after the publicity dies down?
Kenny Chesney thinks he's setting the world on fire, but the truth is he's in his basement with a can of Sterno, roasting weenies that no one can eat.
That's the road to success?
Shame on you, you're furthering country's stance as the most ignorant format.
Be a leader. Use your pulpit for good. Shame other country acts to embrace streaming.
But no, you'd rather get an award on a TV show and be all shucks about it.
Makes me vomit.
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Then again, maybe he's not only exclusive to Apple, maybe you can hear his new album "Cosmic Hallelujah" via Amazon, but I doubt it and researching it is too hard, these acts don't realize Apple and Amazon's streaming services are narrow silos whose contents are invisible to those who do not pay, it's like putting on a show where most people can't go and there are no reviews, what's the point of that?
Kenny's been working it. There's press everywhere, he did a town hall on No Shoes Radio, his SiriusXM station, but you can't stream the album on Spotify... Talk about noise Kenny, by time your LP arrives on the green service there'll be something new, you've got to strike when the iron is hot, while the looky-loos still care, and Kenny you need them to fill your stadium gigs.
Furthermore, you know when the LP goes wide Spotify's gonna bury it, no matter what they say. Steve Jobs was the king of retaliation, it's in the DNA of his company, you expect Spotify to play nice? I don't think so.
And Troy Carter said at the "Wall Street Journal"'s D Conference last week that Spotify would never get rid of its free tier, because some people will never pay. There you have it. Spotify's the new radio, and people listened to the radio and bought concert tickets and merch from time immemorial.
But the dirty little secret is right now streaming is anemic for country acts. Just like with CDs, sales plummeted in country last. So even if you're on Spotify it's not really hurting you. And does it hurt you anyway?
What game is Kenny Chesney playing here? We're already off Lady Gaga, she's in the rearview mirror. Imagine if her new album weren't on Spotify, when she came to the service no one would listen!
But Kenny thinks country will never change, that it will still be radio driven, that he'll whip out his tracks one by one, they'll run them to number one and there will be partying in the streets.
No.
That game is on its way to extinction. Just look at pop. Where the tracks break on streaming services first and radio picks up the crumbs. Actually, we saw this movie once before, thirty years ago, with MTV. Suddenly, the tail was wagging the dog, radio had to play what MTV did, and when it did not, the station's ratings took a nosedive.
Funny how Kenny will take a stand on this but not anything else. His vaunted single "Noise"... Come on Kenny, who are you for, Hillary or the Donald, you can tell us, but you won't, you're too much of a wimp. Imagine the classic rock acts refusing to say. They had backbones, they cared, you don't.
What does Kenny Chesney stand for?
Relaxing on the beach. That's where we are these days folks. Escapism is everything. And you wonder why music no longer drives the culture.
I just can't understand how acts can be so fan unfriendly. They pay fealty to those footing the bill again and again and then screw them. Not only with exclusives on streaming, but ticketing too.
It's a rip-off culture. Ready to be disrupted. Just like food. McDonald's cruised along for years, then fast casual came along and it turned out people would rather pay a few bucks extra for something really good.
When the revolution comes, and it will, acts like Kenny Chesney will be buried by those speaking the truth.
Someone's gonna come along and lay their heart bare and turn country music upside down. Do you really think this bro thing is forever?
What kind of bizarre world do we live in where the distributor is hipper than the artist? That's right, Spotify is more forward thinking than Kenny Chesney and more beloved. Records come and go, Spotify remains. Remember that, no act is bigger than the streaming service, it lived for years without the Beatles and grew quite nicely. Distribution is bigger than your act, how come Kenny Chesney doesn't know that?
In movies and TV they want you to buy multiple streaming services. Think of a movie and you can't see it, not unless you pay someone you're not already subscribing to, and chances are they don't have it either.
But in music we fought that war. Everything's in one place for one low price, sorta.
As for those rearguard people still hating on Spotify... I guess you hate Uber too. You're still using a typewriter instead of a computer. When I look at the "Billboard" chart I laugh, how inaccurate can you be? Sales are a de minimis part of the picture and the fact that streaming one damn song enough counts as an album is insane, kinda like saying if I masturbated a hundred times it's equivalent to sexual intercourse. Because that's what the "Billboard" chart is, masturbation. A scoreboard for an industry so out of touch it can't handle the truth.
The truth is streaming already won. And you're competing with the history of recorded music. It's tough out there, to gain attention, to be streamed. You don't want to fight with one hand tied behind your back.
Total streams is the only metric that matters. When "Billboard" wakes up and says this god knows.
So, Kenny gets more press when his record goes number one.
But that's only for a week. Then what? What's gonna drive people to stream after the publicity dies down?
Kenny Chesney thinks he's setting the world on fire, but the truth is he's in his basement with a can of Sterno, roasting weenies that no one can eat.
That's the road to success?
Shame on you, you're furthering country's stance as the most ignorant format.
Be a leader. Use your pulpit for good. Shame other country acts to embrace streaming.
But no, you'd rather get an award on a TV show and be all shucks about it.
Makes me vomit.
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Tronc/Gannett
Sometimes you've got to sell.
You may not think this applies to you, two fading news enterprises fighting for survival, but there are self-satisfied owners across all avenues of business, those so caught up in their vision and their love of the company that they can't see the forest for the trees, they can't see it's better to sell.
Sometimes it's better to make the deal.
In the case of music contracts, it gets you in the game. Despite all the hoopla about old acts going indie and new acts having a low barrier to entry the truth is there's a small cadre of experienced players who control the music industry, and if you're not aligned with them, it's almost certain you will not have success. They've spent years establishing relationships. You don't get on CBS "Sunday Morning" by accident, you need help, and if you're not willing to give up a few shekels to get there, the joke is on you. Your goal is to make everybody win, not just yourself.
And when everybody wants you you can charge top buck.
But when your asset value is declining, you make a deal. You agree to be on a triple bill of eighties acts. Your hits are in the rearview mirror, how do you maximize money today?
I don't know what happens to newspapers. Once upon a time they were the only outlet, now there's news everywhere, not all of it generated by independent, trustworthy sources, but you don't need to go to the paper's site, or buy the physical item, to know which way the wind blows.
Television news is history. They cut it to the bone and left none of the essence, there's no reporting extant. It became all about profits, asset value was irrelevant, hell, Comcast owns NBC, it's just part of a giant conglomerate. All you've got on television is beautiful people reading headlines and old farts bloviating their opinions, even though they're constantly proven to be wrong. Want to get news analysis? You're better off going online. As for talk radio, that's for people so inured to their vision they cannot get out of their own way.
Tronc could not get out of its own way.
The "Los Angeles Times" is a pamphlet, that's what Mark McGrath told me once and he's right. I wouldn't be able to convince anybody to buy it, there's so little inside. It'd be like charging someone ten bucks for an album of four songs, with three of them karaoke versions of others' hits. You've got to play to win, or you lose.
Now the previous owner of the "Times," the Chandler family, sold the paper to the "Tribune," which was run into the ground by Sam Zell. And you might think this was a mistake, that they sold too low and ended up in a quagmire, but the truth is you can't eke out every last dollar, sometimes you've got to let go. Not everybody can be the Bancroft family, which sold the "Wall Street Journal" at top buck to Rupert Murdoch just before the newspaper crash. People like to boast, tell you they made the biggest score, they don't tell you about their losses, and the internet sphere is littered with companies that refused to sell out to Facebook or Google that ended up being worth zero, because there was really nothing there, other than maybe a public offering that overvalued the company once. Would Tinder be so valuable if it wasn't part of Barry Diller's IAC empire? And I'm still not convinced Snap is worth all that much, seems flavor of the moment to me, another platform to exhibit content, albeit with a twist. Maybe there's room for one more internet victor, but maybe not.
And there certainly isn't room for all these newspapers.
The newspaper was the filter. It told you what you needed to know. But it was supported by advertising. That model doesn't work anymore, the ads have fallen through the floor and in many cases, like with the L.A. "Times," there's just not enough news left. We need reporting. A couple of news outlets will survive. But it may not be the usual suspects, because they're so busy cutting costs, trying to maintain their margins. Talk to Amazon about maintaining its margins, it was loss after loss, investment after investment, until it all turned around. And the Seattle behemoth got lucky with its Web Services, but that's what happens when you stay in the game and have tons of infrastructure, you're ripe for success, but if you keep cutting...
So we've got this outsider who buys a chunk of "Tribune" and thinks he's got the answers. I'm not saying news won't be disrupted, but I am saying that the usual suspects have expertise. No outsider has triumphed in music for eons. The hated insiders know something, they learned something during all those years of work. They might be less than brilliant, they might be risk averse, but they're got experience!
So this cracker is gonna focus on digital, as if nobody ever thought of that.
And Gannett comes up with a buyout offer and he thinks the company is worth more.
This is not Jeff Bewkes and HBO, which is banking coin, this is a fading asset, it's only worth much more if you can pivot and rebuild it, and the odds of that are very long...
Try selling your CDs today, I just unloaded a bunch, for ten cents apiece. Value is seventy percent less than it was a decade ago, maybe a bit worse. Oh, of course, I could wait until it all turns around, when the discs become a fetish, like vinyl, but maybe that never happens and is my money best tied up in this asset?
This is not real estate, of which they are making no more. Live long enough and you'll probably make money in real property, as long as you didn't overpay, and it never goes to zero, but... All that MTV footage, all that stuff we thought was evergreen, it's not, you want to sell it when you've got a willing bidder.
Or maybe you're one of those doofuses who's all show and no substance. Who invests in declining assets like automobiles...
Well, the true professionals know better. And the true professionals are bankers. Gannett still wanted to make the deal but the lenders said no.
Now what?
I can't imagine the L.A. "Times" resuscitating, I'd rather invest in
Vice, which at least has a hold on what the younger generation wants to know.
And Gannett's engulf and devour strategy has hit a wall.
And we've got oldsters decrying the death of papers and reporters who are playing musical chairs, just waiting for the buyout or to be fired, who don't realize that today you wear many hats, you don't only write, but you market, and he not looking to the future will be squeezed out.
Talk about the destruction of shareholder value...
These CEOs fill their boards with cronies and then they drive their companies off a cliff.
I'm not saying to play it safe, but if the ship is sinking, sometimes it's best to jump off.
And if you can't see a future for your asset, maybe it's time to liquidate.
You may not think this applies to you, two fading news enterprises fighting for survival, but there are self-satisfied owners across all avenues of business, those so caught up in their vision and their love of the company that they can't see the forest for the trees, they can't see it's better to sell.
Sometimes it's better to make the deal.
In the case of music contracts, it gets you in the game. Despite all the hoopla about old acts going indie and new acts having a low barrier to entry the truth is there's a small cadre of experienced players who control the music industry, and if you're not aligned with them, it's almost certain you will not have success. They've spent years establishing relationships. You don't get on CBS "Sunday Morning" by accident, you need help, and if you're not willing to give up a few shekels to get there, the joke is on you. Your goal is to make everybody win, not just yourself.
And when everybody wants you you can charge top buck.
But when your asset value is declining, you make a deal. You agree to be on a triple bill of eighties acts. Your hits are in the rearview mirror, how do you maximize money today?
I don't know what happens to newspapers. Once upon a time they were the only outlet, now there's news everywhere, not all of it generated by independent, trustworthy sources, but you don't need to go to the paper's site, or buy the physical item, to know which way the wind blows.
Television news is history. They cut it to the bone and left none of the essence, there's no reporting extant. It became all about profits, asset value was irrelevant, hell, Comcast owns NBC, it's just part of a giant conglomerate. All you've got on television is beautiful people reading headlines and old farts bloviating their opinions, even though they're constantly proven to be wrong. Want to get news analysis? You're better off going online. As for talk radio, that's for people so inured to their vision they cannot get out of their own way.
Tronc could not get out of its own way.
The "Los Angeles Times" is a pamphlet, that's what Mark McGrath told me once and he's right. I wouldn't be able to convince anybody to buy it, there's so little inside. It'd be like charging someone ten bucks for an album of four songs, with three of them karaoke versions of others' hits. You've got to play to win, or you lose.
Now the previous owner of the "Times," the Chandler family, sold the paper to the "Tribune," which was run into the ground by Sam Zell. And you might think this was a mistake, that they sold too low and ended up in a quagmire, but the truth is you can't eke out every last dollar, sometimes you've got to let go. Not everybody can be the Bancroft family, which sold the "Wall Street Journal" at top buck to Rupert Murdoch just before the newspaper crash. People like to boast, tell you they made the biggest score, they don't tell you about their losses, and the internet sphere is littered with companies that refused to sell out to Facebook or Google that ended up being worth zero, because there was really nothing there, other than maybe a public offering that overvalued the company once. Would Tinder be so valuable if it wasn't part of Barry Diller's IAC empire? And I'm still not convinced Snap is worth all that much, seems flavor of the moment to me, another platform to exhibit content, albeit with a twist. Maybe there's room for one more internet victor, but maybe not.
And there certainly isn't room for all these newspapers.
The newspaper was the filter. It told you what you needed to know. But it was supported by advertising. That model doesn't work anymore, the ads have fallen through the floor and in many cases, like with the L.A. "Times," there's just not enough news left. We need reporting. A couple of news outlets will survive. But it may not be the usual suspects, because they're so busy cutting costs, trying to maintain their margins. Talk to Amazon about maintaining its margins, it was loss after loss, investment after investment, until it all turned around. And the Seattle behemoth got lucky with its Web Services, but that's what happens when you stay in the game and have tons of infrastructure, you're ripe for success, but if you keep cutting...
So we've got this outsider who buys a chunk of "Tribune" and thinks he's got the answers. I'm not saying news won't be disrupted, but I am saying that the usual suspects have expertise. No outsider has triumphed in music for eons. The hated insiders know something, they learned something during all those years of work. They might be less than brilliant, they might be risk averse, but they're got experience!
So this cracker is gonna focus on digital, as if nobody ever thought of that.
And Gannett comes up with a buyout offer and he thinks the company is worth more.
This is not Jeff Bewkes and HBO, which is banking coin, this is a fading asset, it's only worth much more if you can pivot and rebuild it, and the odds of that are very long...
Try selling your CDs today, I just unloaded a bunch, for ten cents apiece. Value is seventy percent less than it was a decade ago, maybe a bit worse. Oh, of course, I could wait until it all turns around, when the discs become a fetish, like vinyl, but maybe that never happens and is my money best tied up in this asset?
This is not real estate, of which they are making no more. Live long enough and you'll probably make money in real property, as long as you didn't overpay, and it never goes to zero, but... All that MTV footage, all that stuff we thought was evergreen, it's not, you want to sell it when you've got a willing bidder.
Or maybe you're one of those doofuses who's all show and no substance. Who invests in declining assets like automobiles...
Well, the true professionals know better. And the true professionals are bankers. Gannett still wanted to make the deal but the lenders said no.
Now what?
I can't imagine the L.A. "Times" resuscitating, I'd rather invest in
Vice, which at least has a hold on what the younger generation wants to know.
And Gannett's engulf and devour strategy has hit a wall.
And we've got oldsters decrying the death of papers and reporters who are playing musical chairs, just waiting for the buyout or to be fired, who don't realize that today you wear many hats, you don't only write, but you market, and he not looking to the future will be squeezed out.
Talk about the destruction of shareholder value...
These CEOs fill their boards with cronies and then they drive their companies off a cliff.
I'm not saying to play it safe, but if the ship is sinking, sometimes it's best to jump off.
And if you can't see a future for your asset, maybe it's time to liquidate.
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Tuesday 1 November 2016
The ER
I'd never been that way before.
Today was the day of my annual checkup at the House Ear Clinic. It's the best in the world, they invented the operations, and they're open to all, they take insurance, if you're wondering about a loss, if you need hearing aids, House is the place.
But it's a bear getting an appointment.
I go once a year, but this time, because of my shoulder surgery, I delayed it. But, as stated above, today was the day.
But Felice was doubled-over in pain.
It started on Sunday. She had to lie down. She complained of a pain in her back, on the lower right side.
Kidney stone, I was sure of it, I'd had too many.
But then the pain passed.
This is how it usually goes. The pain waxes and wanes. And then, holy bejesus, you're freaking out!
My mother believed it was illegal to be sick. So I didn't go to the emergency room the first time, the second time I drove there on a Sunday night and turned around a block shy, convinced that I was okay, and then there was the time I was all the way in and they wouldn't see me right away and I puked all over the bathroom and I ended up having surgery to remove the stone...
I'm an expert.
But if you've never had one before...it's scary.
So for me to wake up before nine a.m. is anathema. Castigate me all you want, but the truth is I love the hours after 9, into the next day, nobody is looking for me, I can relax, that's when all the good ideas come, then again, it screws up my schedule royally and Dr. Brackmann only sees patients in the a.m., he operates in the p.m., so I went to bed earlier than usual and told Felice to wake me up at 8:45 but when the curtains parted and the light streamed in...it was before that.
She wasn't saying much, but she obviously wanted to talk.
And ultimately, she complained of the pain, it was severe.
I told her to call the internist. The internist said to go to the emergency room, but was I gonna punt my appointment at the House Clinic?
Last night I listened to a Radiolab podcast wherein the protagonist was allergic to meat. Yes, it can happen, that's what the podcast was all about, you react to the alpha-gal in the tissue. And when this woman was having her attack she implored her mother to drive her to the hospital but her mom said she had to take a shower first. She ended up going by ambulance. And I thought of how stupid this was, that you're supposed to go NOW, and suddenly, the very next morning, I was confronted with the exact same question. I knew it was a kidney stone, but maybe not. For all Felice knew she was dying. But if I ran out without shaving and showering...how would the doctor treat me at House, assuming I even got there? And I felt I should go. After all, after dropping Felice at the ER she'd be in good hands, what else was I supposed to do?
Oh, be a good boyfriend and stay you'd say.
But then I wouldn't be able to see Brackmann until the new year, when I hadn't satisfied my deductible, and I needed to hear what he had to say.
But Felice had no idea where to go. She'd been living in her abode in Sherman Oaks for a decade but had never been to the ER. I know St. John's in Santa Monica, that's where I go, where to go in the Valley?
I started Googling. And I knew I needed more than urgent care. I came up with Sherman Oaks Hospital, but I wasn't quite sure, I needed to call, no one picked up, I dialed again, eventually got to someone who could answer, could they see someone for kidney stones?
They said yes, far from emphatically, and my decision was made.
Felice was by the throne, puking... I told her to give me five minutes, I'd shower and insert my contacts just that fast, and I did.
But she didn't think she was gonna make it. I'm spewing nonsense on the way over, trying to distract her, telling her about my various kidney stones, and reassuring her that no one ever died of a kidney stone, but she didn't want to hear it.
And then she wanted to puke again. So I pull over on Van Nuys Boulevard, do I have to put money in the meter or do I have a good excuse, and Felice is hanging on to the door, half in and half out, and I implore her to get back inside, we're only blocks away.
And then we were there.
It was strangely calm. There was not another soul in the waiting room. Not even a nurse. Which scared me a bit, was this place together?
But ultimately someone showed up and I filled out the form and then I was confronted with the "Harry Met Sally" question... How long do I have to sit here before I can leave?
I'm checking Google Maps. I seem to have time to make it downtown to House. But if I go my usual way, it's gonna be tight. Google is telling me to take the 5 instead of the 101, which is like taking the elbow instead of the hypotenuse, I've got to be on my way.
So I fire up the map app, and I can hear it, because I'm not playing the radio, because I don't want anything to affect my hearing, and traffic is horrendous but then I segue onto the 134 and I'm breezing along, way out of my way, and then I get on the 5 and the woman inside the phone tells me to get off at the 2.
But I know the 2 only goes a mile or so. But the map app is never wrong, so I obey.
And I ultimately merge onto a drag by the reservoir and I'm stunned that I got here from there. That's the amazing thing about Los Angeles, it's so spread out. When I first moved here I investigated every neighborhood, now traffic is so bad I go almost nowhere. But suddenly, the city all made sense.
And then she told me to bear right on Alvarado.
It never occurred to me this was the street the House Clinic was on, I always came the other way, my reference street was Third.
And as I'm cruising down Alvarado it looks nothing like West L.A. It's closer to Caracas than Los Angeles. I'm thinking about all the people who live here. Is it families, transients? How can you live in L.A., and be so far from the beach? Like Silver Lake and Echo Park, the hipster neighborhoods, if I came from thousands of miles away, I'd want to be closer to the Pacific, but that's just me.
But I made it to the House Clinic on time. But I was uptight I was failing the hearing test, the part where they ask you to repeat words. As for the sounds before that, the beeps, I'm constantly raising my arm, I'm the king of false positives, but I've got to get the comprehension right. And at first the volume isn't loud enough and there's no white noise in the other ear and then I can't repeat the words and I believe I'm failing, I ask for a retest, which shocked the technician who admitted there was a screw-up at first, but this is oh-so-important to me.
And then Dr. Brackmann saw me almost on time, which is a miracle at House. 45 minutes late is on time, sometimes you can wait an extra two hours. And my hearing hadn't changed and I got an education on loud music, which I'll save for another day, and when I got through so was Felice. I'd felt guilty telling her to Uber home, but what's Uber for?
They gave her morphine. She had two stones.
So I drove back to Sherman Oaks and this time the waiting room at the hospital ER was full. And they wouldn't let me in so I said I'd been there before and I got a pass and a doctor told me where to go, which I never would have found myself, and there was Felice.
Now the problem is if you've never had a kidney stone you think you're down for the count, gonna be under for weeks. But I know if you drink a ton of fluid, chances are you'll pass it in a day or two. Not always, you can hold the e-mail telling me I'm wrong, but I bet I've had more stones than you have.
So we go to CVS for four medications and Felice cancels her board meeting and now...
I'm a bit too discombobulated to get back in the groove.
But the funny thing is I so enjoyed being out of my groove. Yes, I wish Felice didn't have two stones, one at the top of her ureter, the other not quite there, but by screwing up my day I had all kinds of new experiences, dealt with different people, evaluated what life was about.
And I'd hate being one of those technicians stuck behind the counter all day at CVS.
And I wonder what kind of degree you need to give a hearing test at House.
And Brackmann is over 70, not that you'd know, but how much longer will he practice, when you've got the right guy you don't want to switch.
And I know that anything can happen. You can wake up thinking your day is going one way, but then your plan changes.
But as I was cruising down Alvarado, seeing another entrance to the 101 that would be a better way home, noting the El Pollo Loco I ate at before that show at the Echoplex, I felt a resident of the city, part of a giant continuum, I belonged, and it felt so good.
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Today was the day of my annual checkup at the House Ear Clinic. It's the best in the world, they invented the operations, and they're open to all, they take insurance, if you're wondering about a loss, if you need hearing aids, House is the place.
But it's a bear getting an appointment.
I go once a year, but this time, because of my shoulder surgery, I delayed it. But, as stated above, today was the day.
But Felice was doubled-over in pain.
It started on Sunday. She had to lie down. She complained of a pain in her back, on the lower right side.
Kidney stone, I was sure of it, I'd had too many.
But then the pain passed.
This is how it usually goes. The pain waxes and wanes. And then, holy bejesus, you're freaking out!
My mother believed it was illegal to be sick. So I didn't go to the emergency room the first time, the second time I drove there on a Sunday night and turned around a block shy, convinced that I was okay, and then there was the time I was all the way in and they wouldn't see me right away and I puked all over the bathroom and I ended up having surgery to remove the stone...
I'm an expert.
But if you've never had one before...it's scary.
So for me to wake up before nine a.m. is anathema. Castigate me all you want, but the truth is I love the hours after 9, into the next day, nobody is looking for me, I can relax, that's when all the good ideas come, then again, it screws up my schedule royally and Dr. Brackmann only sees patients in the a.m., he operates in the p.m., so I went to bed earlier than usual and told Felice to wake me up at 8:45 but when the curtains parted and the light streamed in...it was before that.
She wasn't saying much, but she obviously wanted to talk.
And ultimately, she complained of the pain, it was severe.
I told her to call the internist. The internist said to go to the emergency room, but was I gonna punt my appointment at the House Clinic?
Last night I listened to a Radiolab podcast wherein the protagonist was allergic to meat. Yes, it can happen, that's what the podcast was all about, you react to the alpha-gal in the tissue. And when this woman was having her attack she implored her mother to drive her to the hospital but her mom said she had to take a shower first. She ended up going by ambulance. And I thought of how stupid this was, that you're supposed to go NOW, and suddenly, the very next morning, I was confronted with the exact same question. I knew it was a kidney stone, but maybe not. For all Felice knew she was dying. But if I ran out without shaving and showering...how would the doctor treat me at House, assuming I even got there? And I felt I should go. After all, after dropping Felice at the ER she'd be in good hands, what else was I supposed to do?
Oh, be a good boyfriend and stay you'd say.
But then I wouldn't be able to see Brackmann until the new year, when I hadn't satisfied my deductible, and I needed to hear what he had to say.
But Felice had no idea where to go. She'd been living in her abode in Sherman Oaks for a decade but had never been to the ER. I know St. John's in Santa Monica, that's where I go, where to go in the Valley?
I started Googling. And I knew I needed more than urgent care. I came up with Sherman Oaks Hospital, but I wasn't quite sure, I needed to call, no one picked up, I dialed again, eventually got to someone who could answer, could they see someone for kidney stones?
They said yes, far from emphatically, and my decision was made.
Felice was by the throne, puking... I told her to give me five minutes, I'd shower and insert my contacts just that fast, and I did.
But she didn't think she was gonna make it. I'm spewing nonsense on the way over, trying to distract her, telling her about my various kidney stones, and reassuring her that no one ever died of a kidney stone, but she didn't want to hear it.
And then she wanted to puke again. So I pull over on Van Nuys Boulevard, do I have to put money in the meter or do I have a good excuse, and Felice is hanging on to the door, half in and half out, and I implore her to get back inside, we're only blocks away.
And then we were there.
It was strangely calm. There was not another soul in the waiting room. Not even a nurse. Which scared me a bit, was this place together?
But ultimately someone showed up and I filled out the form and then I was confronted with the "Harry Met Sally" question... How long do I have to sit here before I can leave?
I'm checking Google Maps. I seem to have time to make it downtown to House. But if I go my usual way, it's gonna be tight. Google is telling me to take the 5 instead of the 101, which is like taking the elbow instead of the hypotenuse, I've got to be on my way.
So I fire up the map app, and I can hear it, because I'm not playing the radio, because I don't want anything to affect my hearing, and traffic is horrendous but then I segue onto the 134 and I'm breezing along, way out of my way, and then I get on the 5 and the woman inside the phone tells me to get off at the 2.
But I know the 2 only goes a mile or so. But the map app is never wrong, so I obey.
And I ultimately merge onto a drag by the reservoir and I'm stunned that I got here from there. That's the amazing thing about Los Angeles, it's so spread out. When I first moved here I investigated every neighborhood, now traffic is so bad I go almost nowhere. But suddenly, the city all made sense.
And then she told me to bear right on Alvarado.
It never occurred to me this was the street the House Clinic was on, I always came the other way, my reference street was Third.
And as I'm cruising down Alvarado it looks nothing like West L.A. It's closer to Caracas than Los Angeles. I'm thinking about all the people who live here. Is it families, transients? How can you live in L.A., and be so far from the beach? Like Silver Lake and Echo Park, the hipster neighborhoods, if I came from thousands of miles away, I'd want to be closer to the Pacific, but that's just me.
But I made it to the House Clinic on time. But I was uptight I was failing the hearing test, the part where they ask you to repeat words. As for the sounds before that, the beeps, I'm constantly raising my arm, I'm the king of false positives, but I've got to get the comprehension right. And at first the volume isn't loud enough and there's no white noise in the other ear and then I can't repeat the words and I believe I'm failing, I ask for a retest, which shocked the technician who admitted there was a screw-up at first, but this is oh-so-important to me.
And then Dr. Brackmann saw me almost on time, which is a miracle at House. 45 minutes late is on time, sometimes you can wait an extra two hours. And my hearing hadn't changed and I got an education on loud music, which I'll save for another day, and when I got through so was Felice. I'd felt guilty telling her to Uber home, but what's Uber for?
They gave her morphine. She had two stones.
So I drove back to Sherman Oaks and this time the waiting room at the hospital ER was full. And they wouldn't let me in so I said I'd been there before and I got a pass and a doctor told me where to go, which I never would have found myself, and there was Felice.
Now the problem is if you've never had a kidney stone you think you're down for the count, gonna be under for weeks. But I know if you drink a ton of fluid, chances are you'll pass it in a day or two. Not always, you can hold the e-mail telling me I'm wrong, but I bet I've had more stones than you have.
So we go to CVS for four medications and Felice cancels her board meeting and now...
I'm a bit too discombobulated to get back in the groove.
But the funny thing is I so enjoyed being out of my groove. Yes, I wish Felice didn't have two stones, one at the top of her ureter, the other not quite there, but by screwing up my day I had all kinds of new experiences, dealt with different people, evaluated what life was about.
And I'd hate being one of those technicians stuck behind the counter all day at CVS.
And I wonder what kind of degree you need to give a hearing test at House.
And Brackmann is over 70, not that you'd know, but how much longer will he practice, when you've got the right guy you don't want to switch.
And I know that anything can happen. You can wake up thinking your day is going one way, but then your plan changes.
But as I was cruising down Alvarado, seeing another entrance to the 101 that would be a better way home, noting the El Pollo Loco I ate at before that show at the Echoplex, I felt a resident of the city, part of a giant continuum, I belonged, and it felt so good.
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Monday 31 October 2016
The Music Reflects The Culture
If you look at the Spotify Top 50 and wince...
Chances are you're over thirty, probably forty, fifty or sixty, and are wondering where all the good times have gone. Because now, the music is only about good times. Whereas it used to be about deeper meanings, plumbing one's soul and revealing your warts and all.
But that was back when there was a strong middle class and no billionaires and you felt that your life would be better than that of your parents.
Not anymore.
Life is coarse. As is society. Hell, Donald Trump might be President when a hallmark of the hated Lyndon Johnson's regime was the "Great Society." Johnson wanted to eradicate poverty. Now if you're poor it's your own damn fault.
The English cats were just thrilled to escape the factory. That was their destiny. Music was a lark, not a career. And if you tested limits and failed, who cared. It was all gonna end anyway.
But then it didn't.
And in the U.S. the scene burgeoned in San Francisco, the land of the hippies. Where people dropped out, dropped acid, and lived off the fat of the land, even though there wasn't much. You loaned out your car, your house, your significant other... Now people live behind gates. One of the big sellers is the Ring Doorbell, god forbid someone you don't know comes to your door.
Music is escapism, because life is so damn hard.
Many mothers didn't even work in the sixties. Musical instruments were affordable and you learned music in school whether you liked it or not. Sure, you might have been bitten by the bug and taken lessons, but every week you had to go to the band room to learn how to read music and appreciate classical scores. Seemingly no one knows how to read music anymore, and this was all taught in the public schools!
Before government became the enemy, school budgets were cut and everybody was struggling under the weight of taxes. We made a conscious decision folks, to lower the tax burden on everybody to stimulate the economy, so the rich could create jobs. The end result? Teachers have to bring their own paper to class and roads and bridges are falling apart. But at least you got a tax cut.
And you can complain about the above, but we've got a gridlocked Congress run by Republicans who don't agree. Health care for everybody is bad, the IRS is bad, everything the government does is bad. Do you really expect the best and the brightest to drop out of college, move to the coast and strum a guitar for a living, singing ditties about love, peace and happiness?
No, you've got rappers boasting how good they've got it. Both white and black. They don't know how to say no, only yes. If the corporation is willing to write a check, they're willing to cash it. And the goal is to become a brand, to broaden your base, sell jeans, perfume and what not, because the main goal is to become rich, screw the music.
And the companies purveying said tunes... They're public or owned by conglomerates and as a result are risk averse. This is not the indie heyday of way back when, when A&M and Island were indie and even Warner Brothers utilized independent distribution. When your stock price is key, you take little risk. And acts sell out to the man and then complain about being hamstrung, like Kesha. So don't take the money. But then you might be poor and unrecognized, that's unfathomable.
And there's an endless line ready to take the bait, to work with the forty and fiftysomething men who make the hits.
And for those doing it by themselves... Their sensibility is...
Mariah Carey supposedly wrote her own hits, but her trademark was her voice, any wonder there's a TV show with that name, with people imitating her?
But take the focus off the acts, they're just giving people what they want.
Does someone want to sit at home and hear about politics, when they feel they've got no voice and D.C. is unchangeable?
Do they want to hear about distant crushes, the girl who got away, when they know without money and the latest fashions they can't even get a date?
Do you know what it's like to be under twenty five today?
Drop out of college and you've got no future. You work for minimum wage and live in your parents' basement.
Graduate from college and your career starts now, no taking time to find yourself, you've got to pay off those loans and if you're not busy getting ahead someone's gonna take your job.
All those people experimenting back in the sixties, Stevie Winwood with Traffic, Jimi Hendrix... They had record companies who would stand behind them, who wouldn't drop them after one stiff, the labels were obligated to release what they recorded, but no more.
And society was all about testing limits, questioning authority, doing drugs, finding your best self, who you were was more important than your job or your bank account. But now everybody's playing it safe, they don't want to be without a chair when the music stops.
So you listen to the Top 50 and think it's mindless boasting. Easily discardable music with no meaning.
You're mostly right! But that's what people want!
The acts don't know any better, they never lived through the golden era. And they're mostly lower class denizens who'll do whatever the company tells them to.
As for electronic music... We live in a digital age, one of 0's and 1's, is it any wonder we're embracing a cold sound built on laptops? Easily sendable, easily deleted?
As for listening to one album over and over...
Who's got the time?
No one has any time anymore. Even babies are scheduled. Sitting home and being bored? That doesn't happen, stimulation is at your fingertips.
So when will change come?
It won't be from the outsiders doing it the old way, there's a limited market for that. First, society must change. People must believe they've got a future and that music can fulfill them, give them direction as opposed to being stuff you bump your ass to in a club. And who would blame the listener? Do you really want to listen to the opinions of the nitwits who make this stuff? Most uneducated and young? No way!
So when you decry the state of the sound, know that what's being sold is exactly what young people want. If they wanted different, the labels would make it and radio would air it. They don't care what they sell, as long as it makes money. And it's this vapid stuff that's making money now.
But don't blame them, blame yourself. Blame society. Blame government. We got ourselves into this mess, one wherein we stopped getting together and smiling on our brother and stepped right over one another to get ahead and completely ignored the disadvantaged. If you think this sounds like today's music, YOU'RE RIGHT!
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Chances are you're over thirty, probably forty, fifty or sixty, and are wondering where all the good times have gone. Because now, the music is only about good times. Whereas it used to be about deeper meanings, plumbing one's soul and revealing your warts and all.
But that was back when there was a strong middle class and no billionaires and you felt that your life would be better than that of your parents.
Not anymore.
Life is coarse. As is society. Hell, Donald Trump might be President when a hallmark of the hated Lyndon Johnson's regime was the "Great Society." Johnson wanted to eradicate poverty. Now if you're poor it's your own damn fault.
The English cats were just thrilled to escape the factory. That was their destiny. Music was a lark, not a career. And if you tested limits and failed, who cared. It was all gonna end anyway.
But then it didn't.
And in the U.S. the scene burgeoned in San Francisco, the land of the hippies. Where people dropped out, dropped acid, and lived off the fat of the land, even though there wasn't much. You loaned out your car, your house, your significant other... Now people live behind gates. One of the big sellers is the Ring Doorbell, god forbid someone you don't know comes to your door.
Music is escapism, because life is so damn hard.
Many mothers didn't even work in the sixties. Musical instruments were affordable and you learned music in school whether you liked it or not. Sure, you might have been bitten by the bug and taken lessons, but every week you had to go to the band room to learn how to read music and appreciate classical scores. Seemingly no one knows how to read music anymore, and this was all taught in the public schools!
Before government became the enemy, school budgets were cut and everybody was struggling under the weight of taxes. We made a conscious decision folks, to lower the tax burden on everybody to stimulate the economy, so the rich could create jobs. The end result? Teachers have to bring their own paper to class and roads and bridges are falling apart. But at least you got a tax cut.
And you can complain about the above, but we've got a gridlocked Congress run by Republicans who don't agree. Health care for everybody is bad, the IRS is bad, everything the government does is bad. Do you really expect the best and the brightest to drop out of college, move to the coast and strum a guitar for a living, singing ditties about love, peace and happiness?
No, you've got rappers boasting how good they've got it. Both white and black. They don't know how to say no, only yes. If the corporation is willing to write a check, they're willing to cash it. And the goal is to become a brand, to broaden your base, sell jeans, perfume and what not, because the main goal is to become rich, screw the music.
And the companies purveying said tunes... They're public or owned by conglomerates and as a result are risk averse. This is not the indie heyday of way back when, when A&M and Island were indie and even Warner Brothers utilized independent distribution. When your stock price is key, you take little risk. And acts sell out to the man and then complain about being hamstrung, like Kesha. So don't take the money. But then you might be poor and unrecognized, that's unfathomable.
And there's an endless line ready to take the bait, to work with the forty and fiftysomething men who make the hits.
And for those doing it by themselves... Their sensibility is...
Mariah Carey supposedly wrote her own hits, but her trademark was her voice, any wonder there's a TV show with that name, with people imitating her?
But take the focus off the acts, they're just giving people what they want.
Does someone want to sit at home and hear about politics, when they feel they've got no voice and D.C. is unchangeable?
Do they want to hear about distant crushes, the girl who got away, when they know without money and the latest fashions they can't even get a date?
Do you know what it's like to be under twenty five today?
Drop out of college and you've got no future. You work for minimum wage and live in your parents' basement.
Graduate from college and your career starts now, no taking time to find yourself, you've got to pay off those loans and if you're not busy getting ahead someone's gonna take your job.
All those people experimenting back in the sixties, Stevie Winwood with Traffic, Jimi Hendrix... They had record companies who would stand behind them, who wouldn't drop them after one stiff, the labels were obligated to release what they recorded, but no more.
And society was all about testing limits, questioning authority, doing drugs, finding your best self, who you were was more important than your job or your bank account. But now everybody's playing it safe, they don't want to be without a chair when the music stops.
So you listen to the Top 50 and think it's mindless boasting. Easily discardable music with no meaning.
You're mostly right! But that's what people want!
The acts don't know any better, they never lived through the golden era. And they're mostly lower class denizens who'll do whatever the company tells them to.
As for electronic music... We live in a digital age, one of 0's and 1's, is it any wonder we're embracing a cold sound built on laptops? Easily sendable, easily deleted?
As for listening to one album over and over...
Who's got the time?
No one has any time anymore. Even babies are scheduled. Sitting home and being bored? That doesn't happen, stimulation is at your fingertips.
So when will change come?
It won't be from the outsiders doing it the old way, there's a limited market for that. First, society must change. People must believe they've got a future and that music can fulfill them, give them direction as opposed to being stuff you bump your ass to in a club. And who would blame the listener? Do you really want to listen to the opinions of the nitwits who make this stuff? Most uneducated and young? No way!
So when you decry the state of the sound, know that what's being sold is exactly what young people want. If they wanted different, the labels would make it and radio would air it. They don't care what they sell, as long as it makes money. And it's this vapid stuff that's making money now.
But don't blame them, blame yourself. Blame society. Blame government. We got ourselves into this mess, one wherein we stopped getting together and smiling on our brother and stepped right over one another to get ahead and completely ignored the disadvantaged. If you think this sounds like today's music, YOU'RE RIGHT!
--
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Sunday 30 October 2016
"Surf City-The Jan & Dean Story"
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This is strangely readable.
Writing is an art, a talent that most people don't possess. After finishing this, I tried to crack the new Brian Wilson book, it was unfathomable, short sentences as if you were in the room and the man himself was free-associating. That's Brian, but that's not a book.
But both Brian and Dean Torrence collaborated in the old days, along with Jan Berry, of course, a rich kid with a high IQ who owned the record charts when hits were teen fodder and the Beatles had not yet legitimized the pop sound. Jan and Brian heralded the revolution, the latter sustained, but both were trailblazers.
They grew up in Southern California. That's the heart of this book. Growing up in West L.A. and going to Uni High and playing football and going surfing, it was a simpler time. One all of those alive were exposed to on national television, where all these shows were shot, where it was sunny every day and if there might not have been two girls for every boy, you believed you had a fighting chance.
Dean met Jan on the gridiron. The latter was cool, the former was not. And when Jan invited Dean to a party at his house he was over the moon.
High school. It's not all mini-Mark Cubans cooking up inventions promoted by social media. And despite today's moms complaining to the authorities when their kids get bullied, back then you were on your own, and it was the hardest battle of your life, just surviving. Sure, as an oldster you've got to earn a living, but that's nothing compared with walking the halls of high school and trying to remain unscathed.
So Jan's dad bought him a bunch of recording equipment and turned their garage into a studio. That's the way of the world folks, the rich have advantages, their charges don't work at Dairy Queen and can indulge both their fantasies and desires. No equipment, no act. And only a rich kid would be cool with being dropped by his record label.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Jan was the driver and everybody else cared very little, one by one they dropped out, and when Dean went up north for Army Reserve training he was excised from the group, but then Arnie, the only other man left left, and Dean filled his spot. Because Jan needed somebody. But the label didn't like the change and that's how they lost their deal but...
Life is about accidents. For all the planning you read about in business books, most people float through and are thrown into situations that they either take advantage of or not. Dean wanted to sing, but he also wanted to make sure he didn't get drafted.
And the people they were involved with! Lou Adler and Herb Alpert were their managers. Who ultimately passed them off to guys who could better penetrate the movie and TV business. Who you're aligned with is everything, you need a manager with relationships, or one who is bullheaded and can make them.
And the act succeeds and they play football against Elvis Presley's TCB team in a park in Beverly Glen and then Jan cracks up his Corvette on Sunset Boulevard and is brain-damaged.
Thank god Dean was going to USC, whose degree he could employ to become a graphic designer.
And then there's a TV movie of their story fifteen years later and ultimately more touring and...
You end up with a charmed life.
Or maybe it just looks that way in hindsight.
After the reunion, Jan got hooked on cocaine. Dean had to shut down the act, work with Mike Love, he ultimately made Jan an employee, he needed to be in control. When the hits dry up that's everything, for then it's all business. And speaking of control, Dean talks about working with James William Guercio, who kept getting punted by acts by exerting too much of it. It's a constant struggle, the acts think you're wrong and sometimes they're right and we only know for sure years down the line.
But what I do know is it used to be different. Music was a lark, not a road to riches. Some were bitten by the bug and there was a coterie of youngsters willing to slurp up every drop. Your parents did not have a hold on you, the most important thing was what kind of car you drove and the boys were in search of the girls, the boys are always in search of the girls.
And if you read this book you'll learn nuggets heretofore untold. Like the reason Jan had a cast on his leg in that album cover photo was... They were filming a movie and there was a train wreck, Dean was off in search of lunch, he escaped.
And he's now 76. And some of what he says in the book, you cannot say. Maybe it's just humor, but youngsters may view it as sexist. These faux pas are minor, but glaring. Funny how we all think we're so hip and find out we're behind the times.
And the book could have used a proofreader. Sam Cooke's name is spelled without an "e," and that's only the most obvious of errors. And there are some timeline issues, but...
The book kept calling me back. I wanted to immerse myself in what once was. See it from the viewpoint of someone who's not complaining, just testifying. As to how it was when Southern California was a hotbed of hedonism and a recording industry was built by musicians bitten by the bug promoted by self-appointed hustlers. The disruption came from those making the music as opposed to those distributing it.
And I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved "Surf City," and "The Little Old Lady (from Pasadena)." And to hear any stories about Dennis and Carl Wilson floats my boat.
But I also realize that back then, in the era I grew up in, money wasn't everything, following your dream was. The last place you wanted to work was the bank. You wanted to be on the beach, playing volleyball, having fun, experiencing life with the radio on.
With the radio on.
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This is strangely readable.
Writing is an art, a talent that most people don't possess. After finishing this, I tried to crack the new Brian Wilson book, it was unfathomable, short sentences as if you were in the room and the man himself was free-associating. That's Brian, but that's not a book.
But both Brian and Dean Torrence collaborated in the old days, along with Jan Berry, of course, a rich kid with a high IQ who owned the record charts when hits were teen fodder and the Beatles had not yet legitimized the pop sound. Jan and Brian heralded the revolution, the latter sustained, but both were trailblazers.
They grew up in Southern California. That's the heart of this book. Growing up in West L.A. and going to Uni High and playing football and going surfing, it was a simpler time. One all of those alive were exposed to on national television, where all these shows were shot, where it was sunny every day and if there might not have been two girls for every boy, you believed you had a fighting chance.
Dean met Jan on the gridiron. The latter was cool, the former was not. And when Jan invited Dean to a party at his house he was over the moon.
High school. It's not all mini-Mark Cubans cooking up inventions promoted by social media. And despite today's moms complaining to the authorities when their kids get bullied, back then you were on your own, and it was the hardest battle of your life, just surviving. Sure, as an oldster you've got to earn a living, but that's nothing compared with walking the halls of high school and trying to remain unscathed.
So Jan's dad bought him a bunch of recording equipment and turned their garage into a studio. That's the way of the world folks, the rich have advantages, their charges don't work at Dairy Queen and can indulge both their fantasies and desires. No equipment, no act. And only a rich kid would be cool with being dropped by his record label.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Jan was the driver and everybody else cared very little, one by one they dropped out, and when Dean went up north for Army Reserve training he was excised from the group, but then Arnie, the only other man left left, and Dean filled his spot. Because Jan needed somebody. But the label didn't like the change and that's how they lost their deal but...
Life is about accidents. For all the planning you read about in business books, most people float through and are thrown into situations that they either take advantage of or not. Dean wanted to sing, but he also wanted to make sure he didn't get drafted.
And the people they were involved with! Lou Adler and Herb Alpert were their managers. Who ultimately passed them off to guys who could better penetrate the movie and TV business. Who you're aligned with is everything, you need a manager with relationships, or one who is bullheaded and can make them.
And the act succeeds and they play football against Elvis Presley's TCB team in a park in Beverly Glen and then Jan cracks up his Corvette on Sunset Boulevard and is brain-damaged.
Thank god Dean was going to USC, whose degree he could employ to become a graphic designer.
And then there's a TV movie of their story fifteen years later and ultimately more touring and...
You end up with a charmed life.
Or maybe it just looks that way in hindsight.
After the reunion, Jan got hooked on cocaine. Dean had to shut down the act, work with Mike Love, he ultimately made Jan an employee, he needed to be in control. When the hits dry up that's everything, for then it's all business. And speaking of control, Dean talks about working with James William Guercio, who kept getting punted by acts by exerting too much of it. It's a constant struggle, the acts think you're wrong and sometimes they're right and we only know for sure years down the line.
But what I do know is it used to be different. Music was a lark, not a road to riches. Some were bitten by the bug and there was a coterie of youngsters willing to slurp up every drop. Your parents did not have a hold on you, the most important thing was what kind of car you drove and the boys were in search of the girls, the boys are always in search of the girls.
And if you read this book you'll learn nuggets heretofore untold. Like the reason Jan had a cast on his leg in that album cover photo was... They were filming a movie and there was a train wreck, Dean was off in search of lunch, he escaped.
And he's now 76. And some of what he says in the book, you cannot say. Maybe it's just humor, but youngsters may view it as sexist. These faux pas are minor, but glaring. Funny how we all think we're so hip and find out we're behind the times.
And the book could have used a proofreader. Sam Cooke's name is spelled without an "e," and that's only the most obvious of errors. And there are some timeline issues, but...
The book kept calling me back. I wanted to immerse myself in what once was. See it from the viewpoint of someone who's not complaining, just testifying. As to how it was when Southern California was a hotbed of hedonism and a recording industry was built by musicians bitten by the bug promoted by self-appointed hustlers. The disruption came from those making the music as opposed to those distributing it.
And I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved "Surf City," and "The Little Old Lady (from Pasadena)." And to hear any stories about Dennis and Carl Wilson floats my boat.
But I also realize that back then, in the era I grew up in, money wasn't everything, following your dream was. The last place you wanted to work was the bank. You wanted to be on the beach, playing volleyball, having fun, experiencing life with the radio on.
With the radio on.
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